


with teeth

by helwolves



Series: Blade AU [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action-Movie Violence, Alternate Universe - Blade (Movies), Blood Drinking, Enemies to Allies to Not Quite Lovers but Maybe if They Both Survive This, Existential Vampire Angst, M/M, SASO 2017, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 21:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11089863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/pseuds/helwolves
Summary: At first it was just a few whispers, things like, “Is thathim?” and “Oh,fuck.” Not all that unusual for this sort of place, but before long the flash of metal caught Goshiki’s eye, along with a general rising panic near the exits, and he thought maybe he should find his friends.Born half vampire, half human, Oikawa Tooru has all of their strengths, none of their weaknesses—except the thirst. And maybe his longtime grudge against Ushijima Wakatoshi, a vampire of local prominence who he's never managed to defeat in the ongoing war to protect humans from hidden vampire society. Yes, this is aBladeAU.





	with teeth

**Author's Note:**

> SASO BR1 prompt from DW user wino: "one of them's a vampire, the other one's a half-vampire vampire hunter, can i make it anymore obvious? (blade au)"
> 
> If you told me 10 years ago that a Blade AU for an anime about high school volleyball players would be one of my favorite things I've ever written, I would have... been very, very confused. But I guess you never know where life will take you. Thanks to everyone who has been cheerleading while I wrote this over the past few days. I never meant for this to happen, I was supposed to be doing 500-word SASO fills, but the spirit of 90s techno vampire action cinema took hold of me.

_**i.** _

Goshiki was having _such_ a good time at the club that night, until all the screaming started.

Pretty people adorned with tattoos and piercings and arguably not that much black leather and vinyl had pressed brightly colored drinks into his hands. Lights flashed and music pounded like a heartbeat and he’d danced and gotten deliciously sweaty and someone had even licked his neck once.

At first it was just a few whispers, things like, “Is that _him_?” and “Oh, _fuck_.” Not all that unusual for this sort of place, but before long the flash of metal caught Goshiki’s eye, along with a general rising panic near the exits, and he thought maybe he should find his friends.

In the back room where Tendou was holding court, Goshiki peered around the thick thighs of a corseted table-dancer. Tendou was sprawled there on a banquette, flipping through a magazine. His head snapped up when Goshiki slipped through the entryway.

Goshiki flushed under the sudden direct assault of Tendou fixing him with a bright smile. The way the LED lights glinted off his pointed teeth. The tight leather pants and a mesh shirt that hung loose off one shoulder, both leaving little to the imagination (and Goshiki had a _really_ good imagination). Without any particular direction, the other people in the room started to clear out while Tendou gazed back at him.

Goshiki licked his lips. “Ah, T-Tendou-senpai—”

Tendou shook his head, tossing his magazine aside. “Enough with that, I told you you can call me—”

“ _Satori-chan_!” a gilded voice cut in from the hallway somewhere behind Goshiki.

The smile crawled off Tendou’s face. He stood slowly and unfolded himself to his full height like a cobra uncoiling, then rolled his shoulders. Goshiki felt his mouth go a little dry. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around, to see whose voice that was, and why Tendou was now staring, slit-eyed and unblinking, over his shoulder.

“Tooru,” Tendou said, showing his teeth. “You should have texted.”

“And ruin the surprise?” The voice was closer, accompanied by heavy footsteps, the thick rustling of leather, the clinking of steel on steel.

Goshiki yelped when a hand settled on his shoulder.

“You can run now,” the man beside him said. “Oikawa-san is here to save you!”

At this, Tendou threw his head back and howled a laugh. “Really, did ya think I was going to _eat_ him? Tooru, Tooru,” he sing-songed, “look how _cute_ he is. No, that is my beloved pet you’re touching.”

_Beloved_. Goshiki’s hands clenched into shaking fists at his sides. He should do something, he should show how worthy he is and _help_ Tendou, he should—

“Tsutomu,” said Tendou in a low, laden purr, eyes still fixed on Oikawa. “Go find Eita-kun and get out of here. Now.”

“Y-yes!” Goshiki snapped, adrenaline hitting him all at once. He hadn’t been able to move a moment ago, but suddenly he couldn’t imagine _not_ moving, not doing exactly what Tendou demanded of him, and he bolted for the back exit.

Behind him, he heard a sword being drawn. Knuckles cracking. And Tendou drawling, “I’m going to crush your beating heart this time, Daywalker.”

 

 

_**ii.** _

“ _Hnn_... a little to the right, Tsutomu-kun.”

“Sorry! Is—is that better?”

Tendou hummed with pleasure and let himself sink further into the deep pile of cushions he was lounging in. Goshiki shifted behind him, his warm breath fanning the back of Tendou’s neck while he gave his best effort at a shoulder massage.

It was almost dawn, but their highrise lair was still cool and dark, quiet except for the steady swishes and thumps of Ushijima running through katas on the practice matting far across the open space, and Tendou felt content. He could almost forget the solid trouncing he’d suffered just hours ago thanks to that sunglasses-loving prettyboy bastard.

Semi, who had already been dozing with his head in Tendou’s lap, grunted at all the jostling. “Satori,” he murmured, not bothering to open his eyes, “stop taking advantage of him.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Tendou said, dragging one of his bandaged-up hands through Semi’s silvery hair. “Besides, he _likes_ it. Don’t you, Tsutomu-kun?”

“I do!”

“I’m sure he’ll do you next, Semisemi...”

“Oi, Satori.”

Oohira had come home even later than the three of them, but was now seated nearby with an array of sharp-edged things on the coffee table and a polishing cloth in his hand. He hadn’t been here for the first three or four times Tendou ran through the story, the details getting progressively more interesting as he told it.

“You were saying—how you got away? Oikawa _let you go_?”

“Ah. Something like that.” Tendou scratched at a stiff scar on his chest. It was just the size and shape of a katana blade pointed inward. It still stung like a motherfucker, even though it already looked to be several years old. (It wasn’t.) “Don’t think he was too interested in staying and chatting with the cops.”

“There were cops?”

“Now that you mention it, nope, not this time.”

“Uh. Did it not occur to you that—”

Just then, something large and heavy, possibly made of several feet of concrete, _exploded_ in the foyer beyond the loft’s decorative yet heavily reinforced vault doors.

Tendou couldn’t hear the rest of what Oohira was saying, but he got the idea. “Ooooh, I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“ _Shit_ ,” Semi hissed, suddenly very awake and on his feet, with one of Oohira’s blades in either hand.

Ushijima had stopped mid-kata but stayed where he was, on the far side of the room. He folded his arms across his broad chest and stood framed by the blacked-out floor-to-ceiling window. “You all should go down the back stairwell,” he said mildly, watching the doors, which were starting to shake. “It should still be dark enough to reach the tunnel for another ten—”

“Screw _that_ , we’re not—”

The steel doors flew open with a powerful gust of heat and smoldering shrapnel from beyond.

Oikawa stepped through the wreckage, brushing a flaming piece of tapestry from his lapel with one gloved hand. “Gentlemen,” he said, looking around the room. “And Ushiwaka-chan.”

Oikawa’s mouth curved into a wide smile and his fangs glittered, and Tendou internally cursed himself for appreciating the view so much. The long black leather coat with its flashy sea-green lining, the thigh-high boots, the armored vest, the weapons, the _hair_. It was a look, Tendou had to give him that.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima rumbled, sounding more curious than concerned.

“You could at least look a _little_ intimidated,” Oikawa snapped at him.

Tendou smirked. “You’re a _little_ outnumbered, Daywalker.”

“Lucky for you this time, eh, Satori-chan?”

Oikawa stuck the tip of his tongue out and flashed a V-sign at Tendou.

At Tendou’s side, Semi let out a feral snarl that would have warmed his heart, if his heart were still capable of warming.

“Listen, the sun’s coming up as we speak. I’m sure you all want to brush your pointy whites and get to sleep, so I’ll make this fast. Now, you might not have _realized_ the sun’s coming up, because your stylish den here has those fancy electronic blinds on all its fancy 360-view windows.”

He stopped and his eyes narrowed at Oohira, who had just gotten to his feet.

“You really don’t want to do that. And I was just about to tell you why. The thing is, fancy electronic things always have certain weaknesses, and my Kunimi-chan happened to find a really neat one here.”

“Get to the fucking point, Oikawa.”

“So impatient, Semi-kun! The _fucking_ point is, any of you dirt-dwelling bloodsuckers makes a sudden move, or even looks at me funny—I know that’ll be especially difficult for you, Satori—I hit this button, and you all get to witness one last breathtaking Tokyo sunrise.” He paused, tapping the small device against his chin. “Not that you guys have any real breath to take... hmm, I’ll work on that one.”

“So,” said Ushijima, eyebrows knit as he sifted through Oikawa’s torrent of words like someone panning for precious gems. “Since you did not come while we were already asleep, and you haven’t yet pressed that button—you’re not simply here to attempt to destroy us all.”

“Ah, someone is capable of following along! Who could have guessed it would be Ushiwaka-chan.”

Tendou thought his eyes might roll out of his skull as he asked, “Then what _do_ you want?”

Oikawa cocked a hip out and pointed directly at Ushijima. “Just him.”

 

 

_**iii.** _

This time Iwaizumi thought he might finally have to kick Oikawa’s dumb ass.

“You fucking brought _him_ back to our fucking _base_?”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, throwing up his hands, “you knew that was part of the plan.”

“You told me you were going to capture him, not bring him _here_.”

“Well, this is the safest place for all of us. And... right, I didn’t have to capture him exactly, he... came willingly. I couldn’t just turn around and shackle him up in a dungeon!”

“The fuck, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi growled, rubbing a hand over his face and into his hair, which somehow felt both dry and greasy at once. He really needed a shower.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said quietly, “you should take a break. Relax. When’s the last time you even slept?”

“Look who’s talking. Besides, how am I supposed to sleep knowing there’s a goddamn vampire prince hanging out under my own fucking roof?”

Oikawa looked utterly affronted. “Oh my god, Ushiwaka is _not_ a prince.”

“That is _so_ far from the point.”

“The thing is,” Oikawa said, turning his eyes to the ceiling and starting to pace, “I was thinking about it on the way over there and—he’s never actually tried to kill me, has he? I mean, when I wasn’t actively trying to kill him or one of his annoying minions at the time? He’s just so—ugh. Infuriating. With the _Why do you continue to deny your true nature, Oikawa_. And the _You could be so much stronger if only you’d make the right decision, Oikawa_ —aghhh.”

Oikawa cut off his absurdly deep-voiced Ushijima impression with an anguished snarl and slammed his hands on the table, rattling the disassembled rifle parts Iwaizumi had been detailing.

“Oi,” he said, without any bite. Oikawa pacing and ranting about Ushijima’s many irritating qualities was nothing new, and Iwaizumi himself even enjoyed getting in on a good trash-talking now and then, but something in there had caught his attention. “That is true, though. About the not-killing.”

“Right,” said Oikawa, throwing himself into a chair with a huff and swinging his long, heavy-booted legs up onto the table. His face had settled into a consternated pout.

Iwaizumi shoved Oikawa’s damn muddy boots off the table. “So as far as Ushiwaka and his murderous merry men go, they’re not all that murderous. Where were you going with this?”

“I think—I’m going to bring him along. Some of the things he said... I told him we discovered what Ushijima-sama is plotting, that I planned to use him to infiltrate the castle and stop the ritual.” Oikawa’s face scrunched up. “Would you believe he displayed an actual _emotion_ when I told him his mother was going to destroy every turned vampire within thousands of kilometers just to channel an ancient infernal power through her own bloodline? It was like he actually _cares_ about those delinquents he calls friends. Anyway, he—he offered to _help_. Almost insisted.”

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa. “You’re serious? Since when do we trust vampires?”

A shadow seemed to pass over Oikawa’s face, the sort of look Iwaizumi hadn’t seen directed at him in a very long time, and Oikawa met his stare for a significant span of seconds without speaking. Which was kind of unnerving, kind of a relief, kind of—

“Ah, shit, Tooru, you know what I mean. You’re not—”

“But I _am_ ,” Oikawa snapped. His eyes flashed molten gold, like a cat’s in the dark. “ _Never_ forget that, Iwa-chan. I certainly can’t.” Then he sighed and sagged forward, elbows on the table, head in his hands.

“Ooookay,” Iwaizumi said gently. “When’s the last time you gave yourself a serum injection, Oikawa?”

“ _No_ , I’m—I’m just tired, Iwa-chan. Not... thirsty.”

Iwaizumi grunted. “Come on, I’ll do it. I’ll even hold your damn hand.” He stood and kicked at Oikawa’s chair leg, then ruffled his stupid fluffy hair just this side of aggressively. “Then I want to show you this scope mod me and Kuroo were working on, it’s really fucking cool.”

“...thanks, Iwa-chan.”

 

 

_**iv.** _

Irritatingly enough, it turned out that Ushijima made for quite the useful companion in battling against the ravenous undead hordes—even if he was technically one of them.

“I’m not— _hnngh_ —not undead, Oikawa,” Ushijima said, after Oikawa had been kind enough to admit as much out loud while the two of them were in the middle of cutting down a pack of blood-starved minions banished to the network of tunnels beneath Ushijima-sama’s ancient castle. “Vampirism is merely a genetic mutation brought on by the introduction of viral—”

“It was a figure of speech! Obviously I, of all people, am aware that— _down_!”

Almost before Oikawa finished shouting the command, Ushijima had ducked and sidestepped in a startlingly elegant arc, and Oikawa’s sword neatly bisected the dessicated attacker that had been about to leap onto his back.

Ushijima stood and brushed the umber dust from his hands while they both looked around in the darkness to confirm the area was clear. “Then why do you say these things? We’re not even that different. In a way, you’re as much a pureblood as I am.”

Oikawa stomped on the head of the nearest twitching corpse, then kicked the thing. It smashed into the tunnel wall and burst into a rain of pale dust and bone.

His jaw was clenched as he spoke. “My mother was bitten by a monster while I was still kicking inside her. She was human... _I was human_. Don’t you _ever_ —” Oikawa bit off his words, then ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth, pricking himself with one fang to draw off the swell of rage. “No, I’m not doing this. We have a nefarious ritual to interrupt.”

“Yes,” Ushijima said, and then, “I... did not mean to anger you,” though it was hard for Oikawa to make out over the screeches of the next group of minions scrambling through the tunnels towards them. Ushijima retrieved the chain mace he’d brought along—a massive, wicked-looking spiked metal ball attached to a whiplike length of thick chain with an ornately carved wooden handle—and gave it a precursory swing.

Oikawa smirked over his shoulder. He swiped the edge of his own katana along his thigh, clearing off some of the coagulating gore. “Has anyone told you that is a completely ridiculous weapon?”

Unlike most of Oikawa’s personal arsenal, the thing _was_ ridiculous—huge and heavy, not something just anyone could even pick up, let alone wield in close combat—but it did seem to be effective.

“It was my mother’s,” Ushijima offered. “I thought it might be most appropriate for the situation.”

At this, Oikawa actually laughed, then attempted to hide it behind his hand. “Why, Ushiwaka-chan, maybe you weren’t wrong after all.”

Ushijima looked over at him, blinking in the dark, and it occurred to Oikawa that he might even look cute making that confused kind of face, if he weren’t, well, _him_.

“Maybe we’re not that different, you and I.”

 

 

_**v.** _

In the back of his mind, Ushijima had known that offering to accompany Oikawa here was very likely to end in ashes for them both.

“Well, that was...”

“Destructive.”

“Not what I was going to say, but yes. Ah. Sorry about that. I seem to have broken your birthright.”

Ushijima spat blood on the dust-laden temple floor, which was still shaking with the aftershocks of a series of explosions of a magnitude he could not have anticipated. His eyes were having trouble focusing and he found himself suddenly very distracted by the pure whiteness of a single tooth as it slid through the arterial splatter, jittering back and forth with the force of the ongoing quake. Hmm. At least it wasn’t one of his fangs.

Then Oikawa’s fingers were snapping in his face and Ushijima started, taking two unsteady steps backwards.

“Still with me, big guy?”

The words were spoken lightly, but when Ushijima looked up, he thought he saw a glimmer of actual concern in Oikawa’s expression. Another thing he could never have foreseen.

“I’m—my apologies, I—it’s no matter, this castle was never a home to me.”

Oikawa scowled. “Never mind that. We need to figure out how to get out of here now, and you—you’re not keeping up.”

Ushijima didn’t intend to sit down at that exact moment, but suddenly found himself on the ground, which was spinning in a way that reminded him of the last time he’d taken a sea voyage. He looked up at Oikawa, who was now crouching in front of him, mouth set in a distinct pout.

“No, you need to _move_. We have no idea how long those collapsed tunnels will hold!”

“I need—to rest.”

“Please, you’re not hurt that badly, you’re—okay, that does look pretty bad, please put your shirt back on.”

Ushijima found he didn’t have the strength to tie the shreds of his shirt around his gouged forearm properly, but it was better than nothing. He had lost a lot of blood and suffered more than a few deep wounds in the encounter with his mother’s high priestesses. He could feel his body fighting to regenerate, but it was a slow process, slower still when he was so drained of both energy and blood.

“You should—go,” Ushijima ground out. “The sunrise—even if they break through the fallen rubble, they will not be able to follow you on foot.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Oikawa hissed.

“Oikawa—”

“You need to—to drink, right? That’s why you’re not—”

Ushijima looked away. He found it frustrating that Oikawa even needed to ask this. If he hadn’t persisted in hiding from himself, refusing to feed as other vampires did and become as strong as he had the potential to be, he would understand. He _should_ understand... But by now Ushijima knew from experience that pointing this out would accomplish nothing.

“Well. Not that I care whether you live or die, but it would be inconvenient to have to fight my way out of here alone...” Oikawa tugged at the hair that fell over his eyes, looking wildly around the corridor for a moment, then back at Ushijima. “I _cannot_ believe I’m saying this, but fine, _fine_ , let’s do this before I change my goddamn mind.”

Ushijima struggled to catch up—Oikawa seemed to be agreeing to something else when Ushijima hadn’t asked him for anything except to continue on, to ensure that at least one of them could complete the important task of stopping his mother’s schemes once and for all.

He began to say as much, but Oikawa had already dropped to his knees, pulled Ushijima roughly against him, and pressed Ushijima’s bloodied mouth to his own neck.

Part of him thought to push Oikawa away, but he didn’t have the strength left, in any sense, even if he had truly wanted that. And he wanted _this_ —to let his fangs tear into the pale flesh of Oikawa’s throat, to taste the liquid fire of Oikawa’s strange blood rushing over his tongue... Oikawa, who had haunted his thoughts these many years, neither human nor vampire, but not less than either—so much _more_. It was like nothing Ushijima had tasted before in his long life, and he thought, distractedly, that if it did all end here, he might not mind.

Then Oikawa shoved him off and scrambled away, on his feet a moment later and taking long strides towards the corridor’s exit where the first washed-out inks of sunrise were filtering through the darkness and floating dust.

As the fresh blood raced through his veins, Ushijima felt his strength start to return. It was more than he was used to, different from feeding on a human’s blood. Not enough to allow him to recover instantly, but enough—enough to spring to his feet and lunge after Oikawa for _more_.

With one arm around Oikawa’s waist and the other hand yanking his head roughly to the side, Ushijima latched onto his wounded neck again with a desperate sound rumbling up from his chest. Oikawa cursed sharply, but didn’t throw him off. He even seemed to lean back against him after a time, and the hand that Oikawa reached up to bury in Ushijima’s hair felt almost gentle, encouraging—he couldn’t have been imagining that in his delirium, could he?

Finally those fingers clenched hard and Ushijima was being dragged off of him, Oikawa muttering, “Enough, you brute, don’t be greedy.” Oikawa was breathing hard as he turned and backed away from Ushijima—a physical reaction Ushijima himself had never experienced, but one that was interesting to observe.

He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, then looked down at it, considering for a moment before licking clean all that was smeared there.

“Gross,” Oikawa said hoarsely, gaze fixed on Ushijima’s mouth. Then his honeyed eyes flashed, and went very wide as he looked up, and he said, “Huh.”

Beyond the archway, the sun was breaking through the clouds, warming Ushijima’s skin and hurting his eyes in a way he’d never felt—but it was _not_ setting him ablaze.

Oikawa, a dark silhouette against the array of violet and gold, barked out a wild laugh. He hid his face in his hands and spun in place, long coat swirling. When he faced Ushijima again, his eyes were fever-bright, and his smile was a polished blade. He looked mad and beautiful, joyful and very alive, like he could take on any foe and knew he would be victorious.

“Well, come on, Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa said, grasping Ushijima’s arm and dragging him further into the sunlight. “Who knows how long _this_ will last. And you still need to introduce me to your mother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please talk to me about this ridiculousness. I had so much fun writing it. RT's/reblogs appreciated: [twitter](https://twitter.com/helwolves/status/871479176313942016) † [tumblr](https://helwolves.tumblr.com/post/161441440737/with-teeth)


End file.
